Midnight Street
by painfulclarity
Summary: Slashy fluff. [DM]


**AN: **Slashy fluff, because a friend needed it. I don't own the characters.

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**MIDNIGHT STREET**

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Martin has to admit, he never thought he'd fall in love.

And it's taken him a long time to get to this point. Months, _years_, even, and he's not entirely sure yet. He doesn't think he knows exactly what love _is_, let alone whether or not he's _in_ love. Doesn't know if he wants to be in love or not, because in a way it sounds scary, and big, and too difficult to comprehend. He's always told people he wants to get married, white picket fence and all, but now he thinks about it, he doesn't know if that's still true.

Not that marriage is legal for them, or anything.

And that's something else that he can't stop himself thinking about. He knows it _shouldn't_ be a big deal, but it still is. He's in love with - or not in love with, whatever the case may be - another guy, and that's just weird. Because before it all began, he was definitely attracted to women. He even had a _type_, for Christ's sake - blonde, pretty, perfectly able to kick ass. Such as Sam. Sam was safe, Sam was great. Hell, he'd even have been able to introduce her to his parents.

He closes his eyes, imagines introducing Danny to them. Feels an unpleasant shudder run through his body.

And Danny's nothing like his normal type - aside from the obvious differences, such as a lack of breasts and much more dick, he's snarky and unreadable and he has this really annoying habit of looking at Martin like he's completely crazy and Danny is the only sane person in the world. And that in turn just makes Martin feel like he actually _is_ crazy, and it all gets very confusing and he ends up blushing and stuttering and feeling words tie themselves in knots as they trip from his tongue.

Actually, that tends to happen a lot when Martin's around Danny, but that isn't the point.

He's happy. He knows that, at least; when he gets home he takes Danny with him, and then Danny lies on his couch and watches his TV and makes fun of the clothes he wears at home. Not in a mean way, just in a way that makes Martin buy some new shirts and a new heavy cashmere sweater. And he's definitely pleased with that purchase, because it makes Danny slide his hands up beneath it, fingers cold against Martin's skin, humming delightedly in the back of his throat.

And Danny makes him _laugh_. Not a big deal maybe, but it is to Martin because not all that many people manage to do it, these days. Sam doesn't seem to be able to get more than a smile out of him, but Danny gets guffaws and real laughter. Sometimes with a joke, sometimes with nimble fingers ghosting and tickling along the soft skin on Martin's stomach; it doesn't really matter so long as Martin catches sight of the brief flicker of achievement that runs across Danny's face.

Danny's pretty much living with him now, and that's pretty weird in itself. He's free to tickle Martin whenever he likes. And it's not as if they don't have their fair share of problems, but it's so nice that they're all so easily surmountable. Like, Martin likes juice with pulp but it makes Danny gag so they just buy a carton of each. Surprisingly simple, and it's strange that neither of them thought of it for a couple of months. Instead they were caught silently in a battle wherein Danny sulked and ran his juice through a strainer and Martin pointedly didn't touch the smooth juice.

Childish? Maybe. But Danny seems to bring out the juvenile side of Martin, and he still can't decide whether that's a good or bad thing. Because on the one hand, they fight about tiny petty things, such as the afore-mentioned orange juice, but on the other hand they never stress about the really important things that most couples fall apart over, like money or other men and women or work. Because they seem to understand each other, somehow, in a way that Martin wasn't expecting.

Hasn't been expecting any of this, if he's totally honest, because Sam was his idea of the perfect office romance. When that fizzled out and Danny entered his life with his swagger and attitude and magnetism, it was possibly the biggest shock Martin's ever had. Danny's dark eyes and callused fingers and his stupid foolish strength and pride, and Martin can still remember the way he tangled his hands in Martin's hair before kissing him for the first time.

It's something to do with the way Danny moves, Martin thinks. The way he looks sprawled over white sheets with the sun shining through the window, his face carved in honey-coloured marble, the lines of his body etched in gold ink. His voice, smooth and gravel coated, trickling over Martin like molten metal, and God, his laugh. So satisfying and loud and true, and Martin loves seeing him smile.

Maybe not just his voice but the things he says as well. _You're gorgeous. You're gorgeous_, murmured half-feverishly as he runs his fingers down Martin's sides, making him shiver, pressing kisses to his jaw, the side of his neck, his mouth sucking a strawberry-shaped bruise in the hollow between Martin's neck and shoulder. Kissing with an ice cube on his tongue because it makes Martin shudder, and his breathing slow and long in the night air as they fall asleep next to each other.

Martin can still remember the first night they spent together, but it's the second that he really wants to relive. The first was passionate and hot and if he closes his eyes he can still feel Danny's sweat-slicked skin moving against his, but the second night was long and slow, and they took their time, and there were kisses soft as butterflies' wings brushing across Martin's brow.

And then there's how Danny feels about Martin; it's still an enigma but Martin thinks he's uncovering more every day. He sometimes catches Danny looking at him with a strange, soft look in his eyes, and he's starting to notice just how often Danny's beginning to let him see more and more of who he really is. Showed Martin pictures of his mother and father, told him stories about his foster brothers and sisters, about laughing and crying, and success and failure, and dreaming and falling, and then Danny fell silent. Looked at Martin for a moment and then began to kiss him in earnest.

And now, together for months, years, and Martin can't decide whether or not he's in love. Wonders if he should look up love's definition in the dictionary, and then the door's pushed open. Danny's silhouette poised, outlined in the setting sun and Martin can just about make out his smile before he steps into the room.

"You're thinking again. What did I tell you about thinking?" Danny says softly, moving with a feline bounding grace towards Martin, and now he's in kissing distance, smoothing a hand under Martin's shirt and across the skin on his back, and it feels like a sort of leap of faith as Martin feels his eyelids flutter shut.

So maybe thinking's out now, but that's good. Perfect, in fact, because there's nothing to think about. Love's printed all over Danny's body, written in his fingerprints tracing an unknown trail over Martin's back, and as Martin opens his eyes again to smile at Danny he thinks that maybe nothing's ever been this easy before.

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**THE END.**


End file.
